


Unwind

by b_l_u_e__n_i_g_h_t_s



Series: TenKaiMin Oneshots [1]
Category: EXO (Band), NCT (Band), SHINee, SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, EXO - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with some plot, SHINee - Freeform, Shameless Smut, Smut, SuperM - Freeform, Taemin and Jongin taking care of Ten, Threesome - M/M/M, WayV - Freeform, nct - Freeform, taekai - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21574693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_l_u_e__n_i_g_h_t_s/pseuds/b_l_u_e__n_i_g_h_t_s
Summary: The new managers made it pretty clear that hook-ups were off the table for the foreseeable future because they didn’t want a scandal to come in the way of this fucking expensive project. Ten has been careful all along, of course, because people suspecting is one thing, people knowing quite another. But the last couple of months have been very hook-up and scandal free. The frustration is not doing his crazy nerves any good, maybe he should have said fuck it before they left for LA and found someone discreet to get off with.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Lee Taemin, Kim Jongin | Kai/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taemin
Series: TenKaiMin Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990954
Comments: 36
Kudos: 425





	Unwind

The truth is that most of Ten’s bravado and cockiness is just a thin veil to mask his crazy nerves and the near constant anxiety he feels. At first, his new members treat him like the professional he is and like the self-assured person he pretends to be. But he knows they are starting to catch on to what is really happening inside of him when they start touching him more, reassuringly, praising him and encouraging him and being kinder, softer, gentler with him whenever his nerves are riding him particularly hard.

Ten’s anxiety gets infinitely worse when he lets himself think about their debut, about actually sharing a stage with Taemin, who he has been worshipping like a hero for so long. He thinks he might choke on the fear and die before it ever happens. He is so afraid, all the time. They fly to LA together and he gets to sit next to Taemin on the plane. Ten’s nerve endings are frayed, sending strange signals of pain and tension that don’t really make any sense. He tries to calm himself down by drawing, tries not to look over, to see what Taemin is watching on his iPad, tries not to lean in and smell the pine-scent of Taemin’s hair. God, Ten is so fucked.

The house in LA is very big and very pretty and very intimidating. Is it too late to reconsider? Can he still just leave the group, leave the company, try to get out of his contract? Can he sneak away, adopt a new name, live a life as a jewelry designer with a litter of dogs somewhere?

The first night in the intimidating house, Ten knows even before he lies down on his soft, fluffy bed, that he won’t be able to sleep. His skin is all itchy and his stupid brain is chattering away, telling him shitty versions of the future, catastrophes that get worse as the night grows darker. It would be easier, maybe, if he could just slip out for a few hours, find a pretty guy, work off some of this restless energy. But he has been very careful lately. The new managers made it pretty clear that hook-ups were off the table for the foreseeable future because they didn’t want a scandal to come in the way of this fucking expensive project. Ten has been careful all along, of course, because people suspecting is one thing, people knowing quite another. But the last couple of months have been very hook-up and scandal free. The frustration is not doing his crazy nerves any good, maybe he should have said fuck it before they left for LA and found someone discreet to get off with.

Ten gets up when he can’t take the panicked staccato of his pulse anymore, sneaks into the fancy kitchen that has probably never been used before and tries to find something to calm himself down. He is pretty sure someone brought Soju, maybe that will do the trick. He is rummaging through one of the huge-ass drawers when the light is switched on and a disheveled and bleary-eyed Taemin is looking at him.

“Oh, thank god it’s you,” Taemin says, “I thought it was a thief, here to steal my chocolate.” He blinks, slowly, sways on his feet. Ten thinks Taemin might have put his sleep shirt on backwards.

“I…,” Ten says, shakes his head, “what?”

Jongin pads in barefoot and bare-chested, a quiet smile on his lips. “Taemin-ah, you’re sleep-walking,” he says, wraps his arms around Taemin’s waist from behind and shakes him a little.

There is so much intimacy in that one gesture that Ten looks down into the drawer he was searching a minute ago, feeling like an intruder.

Taemin yelps and starts to chuckle, shaking his head as if to clear it.

Jongin snorts. “Chocolate thieves, really? That is your biggest fear? And how exactly were you going to fend them off, half asleep and without a weapon?”

Ten finds sweet milk tea powder. Maybe he should take a cold shower instead.

“Hey,” Jongin’s voice is closer, louder, but still sleep-soft. Ten looks up to find Taemin seated at the kitchen isle, Jongin standing next to him. “Can’t sleep?”

Ten nods. He feels like his skin is two sizes too small for him.

“You look terrified, are you okay?”, Jongin asks, his face worried. Ten doesn’t know how to answer, so instead of saying something smart or funny, anything remotely sane, he just gapes at Jongin, trying really hard not to let his eyes slip down the very distracting skin of Jongin’s chest and abs. Ten thinks he might be shaking, he thinks he might be a second from screaming with frustration and anxiety.

Jongin pads over to him, slowly. “Come here,” he says quietly, “sit down and I’ll make you something sweet, you look like you could really use it.” He smiles the smile he reserves for moments without cameras, quiet moments like this.

Ten sits down next to Taemin and watches in silence as Jongin moves through the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets and drawers, his hands sure, his movements graceful.

Taemin slides an arm around Ten and pulls him close. He rests his head against Ten’s. “Are you nervous because of the showcase?”, he whispers. Ten nods. He feels so very strange, so very unlike himself, he feels like he is about to cry. Taemin’s skin smells like linen and clean sweat, like a soft, warm bed. Ten really, really should have broken the rules before they came here, he so desperately needs to get a grip on the frustration running in his blood before he embarrasses himself. He is pretty sure if he stood up now, he would have some explaining to do.

God damn it all to hell.

Jongin makes Ten sweet milk tea and mochi, sets it all down in front of him and then sits next to Ten, wrapping an arm around him. Ten is surrounded by skin and heat and soft whispers, quiet smiles, encouraging words, concerned glances. Ten is fucked.

“Try it, it will make you feel better,” Taemin says and feeds Ten a piece of sweet, sticky mochi. Ten tries to stifle his quiet moan by biting his tongue.

“It will be fine, we practiced very hard, you worked so much for this,” Taemin promises. Ten thinks he nods, thinks he chews, thinks he looks like a normal human being, not like the quivering mess of pent-up energy that he really is inside.

“I’m pretty nervous, too,” Jongin admits, “I’m really glad we’re all in this together, though, it’s better, isn’t it, not to have to do it all alone?”

Ten thinks he has been alone for a long time now. Not in this, exactly, but in other ways, in ways that matter the most. He should swallow it, push it down, forget it, because he is working hard for his career and that is the priority. What’s a bit of loneliness when you are realizing your dream, when you get the chance to do exactly what you always wanted? It used to be easier. Somehow. But the last few months he has been feeling more and more lonely, strange, so detached from who he really is.

Ten finishes his sweat tea and his mochi, his fingers sugary-sticky. He feels ready to vibrate off the face of the planet.

“God, you look so tense, still,” Taemin says and shakes him a little bit. “Ten, talk to us. What’s wrong?”

It’s not really Ten’s proudest moment, or his most dignified, because he immediately starts to cry.

“Wha-“ Taemin’s hands flutter in confusion, he is looking at Ten, utterly helpless, then at Jongin. Jongin, who wraps Ten up in a hug and squeezes tight.

“Shh,” Jongin whispers. He rocks him back and forth a little, trying to soothe him. “Talk to us, love.” Ten sobs into Jongin’s neck, feels his teeth chatter because he is shaking so goddamn much. He tries to say something, but he is embarrassed and stupid and shy and anxious and he really, really doesn’t know what to say.

Jongin’s neck smells like sleep and musk and coconuts, a confusing blend that does nothing to calm the strange fluttering feeling in Ten’s belly. And when Jongin starts to rub circles on the skin of Ten’s nape, goosebumps prick Ten’s skin all over his body. He very desperately needs to leave. He most definitely needs a fucking ice-cold shower right about now.

Ten pushes back, wild desperation and fear inside him, and mutters nonsensical excuses. He gets up, prays that his big sleep shirt is hiding his embarrassing hard-on.

He is half-way to his room when Taemin catches up to him, catches his hand, pulls to turn Ten around. When he does, Taemin’s confused gaze travels down Ten’s body and Ten wants to jump into the next deep hole. His cheeks are burning. Shit, he doesn’t know how to explain himself. There is no way he can explain himself.

“I’m such an idiot,” Taemin mutters. “I’m guessing they gave you the ‘no fucking scandals’ talk, mh?”, he asks. Ten nods, his cheeks still burning like crazy. “Look, they’re kind of dumb. If you need, you know, to work off some of that energy, we’ll find a way, no scandals attached, okay?” He looks completely serious. And not ashamed at all. Strangely, Taemin being so matter of fact about it calms Ten’s panicked embarrassment a little. Ten swallows, wrap his arms around himself, tries to breathe.

“There are always quiet ways to get out and have some fun if you want,” Taemin continues. He smiles as if this were a normal conversation to have, as if he were offering more sweet tea instead of late-night hook-ups.

Ten tries to say something around his slowly receding panic. He feels so utterly lost and on the verge of tears again. Fucking fuck.

“I don’t-,” Ten starts around the tight pain in his throat, “I don’t know if I’m brave enough.” He sounds small and scared and he hates himself so much in this moment. He is very far away from the person he strives to be, the confident, funny Ten who always has a teasing joke on his lips. He hates this, he hates it so much.

Taemin nods, holds Ten’s gaze all serious. His eyes are hypnotizing, even when he is sleep-soft and bare-faced like this. “If you change your mind you come find me and we’ll figure something out,” he promises. He turns and Ten lets out a shaky breath, both glad to soon be alone in his embarrassment and desperately wanting not to be all by himself.

Taemin stops half-way down the hall to his room, turns around and smiles as if he’s just had an idea. “Hey, if you ever want to play with us, you know, you totally could. Nini’s kind of shy, but he likes you a lot and I know he wants you happy.”

Ten thinks he chokes on his own tongue. Because damn it, he wants to believe Taemin is offering what he thinks he is offering. So bad. So, so bad. He tries to ask, but the only sound that leaves his throat is a weak croak.

Taemin smiles, a kind smile that turns sinful halfway through. Ten can feel goosebumps break out all over his skin. “If you decide you want to play, just knock on my door,” he says. Ten stumbles to his room, his ears ringing, sits down on his bed and waits for his heart to calm the fuck down.

Ten tries to talk himself out of it under the hot spray of his luxurious shower. Damn, this house is nice. But while his mind makes a list of all the reasons why this is a bad idea, his hands wash his skin thoroughly. It’s hard to think clearly as he soaps up, touches his oversensitive body, his skin prickling with nerves, hot want pooling in his belly.

Ten pulls on jeans and a t-shirt, dries his hair carefully. He even applies a little bit of eyeliner, puts on a few gold rings and the bracelet he bought on his last trip home to Thailand. He is shaking when he tiptoes into the hallway. Part of him is screaming to turn around, before he embarrasses himself, before he makes things awkward. But he doesn’t. Instead, he knocks quietly on the door to the room Taemin got assigned and that they all know he shares with Jongin anyway.

Nothing.

Ten knocks again, takes a step back when there is no answer, his cheeks burning. He is such an id-

The door opens and Taemin smiles at him, all open and inviting and happy. “There you are,” he says as if he has been waiting for Ten. He steps back to let Ten in, closes the door behind him.

The spacious room is lit by the tiny fairy lights strung around the balcony, by moonlight, by the soft glow of a small lamp in a far corner. Ten tries to swallow his nerves. Jongin is sitting in an armchair against the window front, his legs crisscrossed, his face in shadow. The light from the balcony spills over Jongin’s bare shoulders, makes the white stripes of his lose pajama pants glitter like silver. Jongin lifts his hand and waves awkwardly, mumbles a shy ‘hello’ that makes Ten feel better, feel at ease somehow, less alone.

Taemin links his hand with Ten’s, makes him turn around to face him. He leans forward, his gaze dipping to Ten’s lips.

Jongin makes a soft sound, says ‘Taemin’ so quietly Ten can barely hear it. But it is enough to make Taemin stop, lean back, nod. “Right,” he says, “sorry.” He shakes his head a little, lets go of Ten’s hand. “Ten,” he says, “you say stop if you want to stop. You leave if you want to leave. It would be okay, totally fine, you have all the choices. You don’t have to explain yourself, it won’t be weird, we will not hold grudges, we won’t make you feel embarrassed. This is just fun, yeah? Simple and with no strings attached.”

Ten nods. “Okay,” he says, his voice small but steady, “the same goes for you,” he adds, even though it feels kind of unnecessary. Taemin smiles and it makes Ten all tingly and happy. Taemin looks over Ten’s shoulder, then, lifts his eyebrows. “Alright?”, he asks and Jongin must nod, because Temin buries his fingers in Ten’s hair and pulls him in for a kiss.

Ten whimpers into it, closes his eyes and lets himself be kissed open, loses himself in the wet heat of Taemin’s lips and the teasing brushes of his tongue licking into his mouth. Taemin twists his fingers a little, makes tiny pinpricks of pain break out all over Ten’s scalp. Ten pants into Taemin’s mouth, presses closer, so desperate for skin, for warmth, for contact, for hot friction. It’s embarrassing how desperate he is, but he still can’t stop his body from moving in closer. He hooks his arms around Taemin’s shoulders loosely, moves his hips in one fluid wave to press their fronts flush together.

Taemin bites his lower lip in response, sucks it into his mouth, and lets the hand not twisting in Ten’s hair slide down the deep curve of Ten’s back, pressing them together more firmly. Ten sees little stars explode behind his eyelids. He tries really hard not to think too much about the fact that he is kissing Lee Taemin. Taemin, who tilts back Ten’s head with a firm grip on his hair, who bites his pulse point, sharp teeth pressing against sensitive skin until Ten whimpers and tries to plead for more, for faster, tries to plead to be fucked, to be messed up, now now now. But all that leaves his lips are tiny, broken noises of want. Taemin chuckles, rolls his body against Ten, creating more wonderful friction. Ten gasps for air, quietly prays that he won’t just pass out from the sensual overload. Taemin moves against him in a dizzyingly slow rhythm, swallows the desperate noises he pulls from Ten. The contrast between Taemin’s soft lips and the hard planes of his body moving against him are driving Ten insane.

The next time Taemin rolls his hips into Ten’s. Ten bites Taemin’s mouth, licks into the kiss all messy and wet and deep, fucks Taemin’s mouth, drops his hands to Taemin’s goddamn hips and pulls him in so close so hard so fast it hurts. Taemin sobs into the filthy kiss, shivers, pulls Ten’s hair.

Taemin walks them back to the bed, pushes Ten down on it, his hands finding the hem of Ten’s shirt. He is panting, his eyes glassy and his lips all messed up and puffy and red when he pulls back to strip Ten of his shirt, his jeans, his briefs, the socks with little foxes on them. Ten hazily thinks it is unfair that Taemin gets to keep his clothes on while he is lying there all naked, but he swallows the sounds of protest, because the way Taemin looks at his body is making everything else seem unimportant. The way Taemin fits his hand against the soft curve of Ten’s waist makes Ten feel tiny and beautiful and safe. But the things Taemin whispers against his ear, his neck, they are filthy, promises to make it good, make it hurt just enough, to make Ten plead for it, beg for it, make it so good for him.

Taemin lets his hands run down Ten’s legs, cups them around the arch of his feet, his heels, slides his palms up again, thumbs brushing the soft sensitive skin of Ten’s inner thighs. Taemin touches his fingers to Ten’s sides, his chest, brushes his nipples that are hard and painful, aching for more. Taemin smiles deviously, hold’s Tens gaze as he dips down, runs the tip of his tongue over one nipple, sucks it into his mouth, hard, closes his teeth around it in the hint of a bite. Ten’s lashes are wet, suddenly, his lips spilling pleas, promises to be good so good so good just please touch me, fuck me.

But Taemin pulls away a little and chuckles. “Now, what do you think you’ll achieve with that look in your eyes, mh?”, he asks, cocks his head a little, blinks slowly, his gaze dipping down Ten’s body. Ten swallows hard, feels pinned in place even though Taemin is not touching him at all.

Taemin takes his fucking time, just looks at Ten, his pupils blown wide. Ten can see the outline of Taemin’s hard cock through the fabric of his pants, his fingers tingling to touch.

When Taemin finally, finally touches Ten again, it is to hook Ten’s legs up over his shoulders, hard muscles moving against the soft skin in the crook of Ten’s knees. Ten tries to stifle the broken sounds he makes when Taemin licks wet and hot against his rim, but he can’t hold back the deep moan, the harsh “fuck” as Taemin sucks, dips his tongue into the tight ring of muscle. Ten’s body jerks uncontrollably, everything too much too hot too close, his cock throbbing to be touched. But when Ten slides his hands down, Taemin catches them, presses them into the mattress, shaking his head so his hair brushes against Ten’s thighs.

“Oh, please, please,” Ten sobs, not caring how wrecked he sounds, or how desperate. His words get all jumbled, a string of pleas and threats and Taemin’s name. Just before the world breaks apart red hot, Taemin pulls back, his lips a glistening, filthy mess, and bites Ten’s inner thigh.

“I like the way you beg for more,” he says, but unhooks Tens legs, sits back on his heels, his chest heaving.

“Then do it,” Ten says, his voice hoarse, “do it, do it, please.” He tries to touch himself again, to push up and get to Taemin, but Taemin shakes his head and pins him in place with a firm grip and enough strength to make Ten’s struggles useless.

“Let’s calm down a bit,” Taemin suggests and Ten threatens to kill him. It makes Taemin throw his head back and cackle. Fucking cackle. The fucking asshole, the fucking-

“I like you like this,” Taemin says, his face softer than it was, almost as if apologizing. But he still doesn’t budge. Ten stops struggling when he runs out of breath, lets his head drop against the soft pillow beneath him and closes his eyes. He tries to catch his breath, to calm down.

“Yes, just like that,” Taemin says and Ten feels warm lips on his sternum, kissing down his belly, the tip of Taemin’s nose nudging his belly button. Ten wants so bad it hurts. Only when his heartbeat is not fluttering like crazy anymore does Taemin lick a wet stripe up the underside of Ten’s cock. It’s enough to make him bite his lips bloody. And then all Ten feels is wet heat, just enough pressure, just enough friction, to make the world burn. He buries his hands in Taemin’s hair, tries to make him go faster, tries for a pace that will tip him over the edge fucking now. But Taemin just chuckles around his cock, keeps at it with languid strokes and those wicked things he does with his tongue. Ten’s connection to reality becomes a little fuzzy, the pure bliss making it hard to remember where up and down is. So Ten opens his eyes to the sight of Taemin between his spread thighs and he thinks he might explode from the impact of that image alone. He thinks he hears himself swear, thinks he can hear his own heart beating like crazy against the cage of his ribs. Ten pants Taemin’s name, begs him not to stop, not to stop, please please I’ll do anything you want. Through hazy pleasure, Ten lifts his gaze and finds Jongin still sitting in the armchair against the windows, his face in shadow, but his eyes definitely watching him, watching Taemin. Ten can see his chest lifting fast, his fingers gripping the armrests tight, knuckles silver white in the light streaming in through the windows.

It makes Ten feel all strange and tingly and exposed, to be watched like this, to fall apart while someone can see. He whimpers, bites his lips, tries to stifle the filthy sounds spilling from his mouth, suddenly self-conscious.

Hot heat pools in Ten’s stomach, his muscles going all tight. And Taemin pulls off, sits back, catches Ten’s hands to press them into the mattress. Ten’s protests are garbled sounds wrapped around Taemin’s name, a senseless mess of noises that make Taemin smile deviously. Tiny electric shocks run over Ten’s skin, crackle in the silent room. He is surprised that he doesn’t glow with the crazy energy he feels everywhere in his restless body.

“Taemin,” he finally gets out, his voice hoarse, “please, I’ll do anything, just please, I need this, I need, I need-“ his voice breaks on a sob, but Taemin still won’t release his hands, still won’t stop looking at him in a way that is melting his insides.

“You’ll be good to Jongin, won’t you?”, Taemin finally asks. Ten nods so vigorously he makes himself a little sick with the movement. Taemin lets go of his hands and looks at Jongin, still gripping the armrests of his chair tightly.

Ten gets up, swallowing hard, suddenly nervous again. He bites his lip a little, takes a few cautious steps toward Jongin, whose face he can hardly see. He tries to say something but can’t get the words out right. Instead, he slowly walks over to the windows, drops down between Jongin’s spread legs and looks up at him. From this angle, he can see that Jongin’s eyes are huge, his face almost as nervous as Ten feels. Ten swallows again, then reaches up to touch the waistband of Jongin’s pajama pants. The skin beneath is hot and smooth, stretching over taut muscle.

“C-an I?”, Ten asks timidly and only when Jongin nods, does he pull down pants and tights, slowly, lets them pool at Jongin’s bare feet. Ten gets up on his knees and takes one shuddering breath.

“Be good,” Taemin says from the bed. It is a thrill to know he is watching his every move. “He likes it slow and wet.”

Ten nods, wets his lips and sinks his mouth over Jongin’s hard cock. He lets his tongue run little patterns over the soft skin, creates a little suction. Jongin groans, a deep sound that Ten can feel vibrating through his entire body. He closes his eyes and moves slowly, letting his spit dribble down Jongin’s cock, making it wet and messy. Jongin buries a hand in Ten’s hair, but he doesn’t pull, doesn’t try to guide Ten’s movements, it is just a warm point of contact that feels like a thank you and a line tethering him to reality somehow.

“Yeah, he likes that a lot,” Taemin breathes, his voice rough. Jongin’s pants are shallow and erratic, broken by soft little moans that are driving Ten insane. He needs to come, he needs to, he needs, he can’t, he can’t, it fucking hurts so bad-

Ten is pulled up, his lips sliding off Jongin’s cock with a wet pop. He opens his eyes to try and make sense of the sudden movement, finds himself in Jongin’s lap, looking into deep brown eyes with pupils so wide they nearly swallow the world. Jongin cradles Ten’s face with warm hands, his thumbs caressing the arch of his cheekbones, rubbing the spit from his lips. “That felt really nice, thank you,” Jongin says, a little shy and very sweet. “Can I kiss you?” Ten nods, touches his hand to Jongin’s nape, and lets himself be kissed warm and deep and gentle. Something in his chest hurts a little and he tilts his head a bit to deepen the kiss, to let Jongin in. The soft kisses Jongin touches to his lips, the shy licks of his tongue, are in contrast to the muscled heat that surround Ten’s body, to the strength that lifted Ten like he weighed nothing. It’s dizzying. Jongin pets him and gentles him and cuddles him into his chest, wraps him in strong arms and whispers compliments into Ten’s ear. Until the hurt and the desperation fade enough for it to be bearable, until his breathing comes a little easier. Again and again, Jongin asks Ten if he is okay, if this is okay, if this is what he wants and Ten answers yes, yes, yes, and please, I want you so much, I want this so much.

Finally, Jongin asks Ten to hold on, wrap his legs around his waist. Jongin stands up easily, carries Ten to the bed, spreads him out on the soft sheets next to Taemin. Jongin pauses to press a kiss to Taemin’s lips, one hand holding Ten’s, one hand wrapped around Taemin’s nape.

“Sit back against the headboard,” Taemin says and Jongin nods, complies. He smiles at Taemin, touches the toes of his foot to Taemin’s shin in a stupidly affectionate gesture. Taemin’s intense gaze morphs for a moment, a smile breaking out over his face. He looks as if he is seeing the sun for the first time in days, happy and free and safe. As he turns to Ten, he licks his lips, dips his hand to cup his own hard cock through his pants. Taemin leans in, kisses Ten’s lips surprisingly gently, pecks his cheeks, his chin, the tip of his nose.

“Will you turn around?”, Taemin asks, “get on your hands and knees?” His voice drops an octave. Ten shivers in anticipation, does as he is told. He lets Taemin push him towards Jongin, feels Taemin’s fingers in his nape, squeezing a little. “I want you to make it good for him,” Taemin says, and pushes Ten’s head down over Jongin’s cock. Ten tries to relax his throat as Taemin pushes him down further, further, until his nose almost touches Jongin’s stomach. He swallows around Jongin’s cock, the sudden lack of breath a heady rush that heightens his senses. Jongin sobs, touches Ten’s shoulder gently, his fingers drawing tiny patterns on Ten’s skin, asking him if he is okay, if this is okay. Taemin lets go of him, and Ten lifts his head enough to draw a deep, shuddering breath. He feels like he is going to implode, like his skin is too tight, like all his senses are suddenly more acute. Ten whimpers desperately, groans deep in his chest when Taemin pushes him down again, while wet fingers tease Ten’s rim. Taemin lets go of his nape and Ten finds a slow, steady rhythm, pulls low moans and soft sobs out of Jongin, tries to keep going as Taemin’s fingers, wet and warm, slide into him, one, two, scissoring, stretching. It’s been so long. So long. Goddamnit, he needs this so much. Ten tries to relax, tries to let Taemin in, tries not to fight it. He feels Jongin’s hand on his cheek, petting him, caressing his jawbone, his cheek, the shell of his ear. He sucks wet and messy, makes Jongin’s breath hitch. Ten’s rhythm falters a little when Taemin crooks his fingers, wickedly fast. Ten sees stars for a moment, forgets where and when he is, forgets everything but this feeling that he wants, he needs, he needs again now now now. Ten whines around Jongin when Taemin pulls out his fingers. It makes Taemin chuckle softly.

“Not much longer now,” he promises. He buries his nose in Ten’s neck, presses tiny kisses to the sensitive skin there. “You want to fuck Jonginnie?”, he asks quietly. Ten stutters for a moment, the images the proposal conjures rendering him speechless and senseless. Jongin sits up, pulls Ten into his lap, cuddles him close.

“You don’t have to,” he whispers, “you do what feels good, okay?” His voice is deep and smooth like honey, and it does nothing to quiet the frenzy in Ten’s head. But the soft strokes of Jongin’s hands over his head, his nape, the way Taemin presses close against his bare back, wraps his arms around him, rests his face against his shoulder, it all makes Ten feel very warm and very safe, lets him calm down enough to mumble “Yes yes yes please I want, I want-“

Taemin lets Ten watch as he kisses and teases Jongin open with practiced ease, watch as Jongin starts to become more incoherent, starts to fall apart in front of him. Taemin pulls Ten off the bed then, makes Jongin lie on his back at the edge of the mattress, his knees bent. Taemin rolls a condom over Ten’s throbbing, neglected cock, dribbles some lube all over it. There is more foil ripping, hands on Ten’s hips, moving him forward, holding him tight. He braces himself on both sides of Jongin’s hips, leans over him, sobs at the sight of honey skin over taut muscle. He stretches up to kiss Jongin, a little sweet and a little shy, before he sinks into his tight heat with a broken sob. It’s been so long. So long. Jongin closes his eyes, chases Ten’s lips, buries his hands in Ten’s hair to hold him close. They trade kisses that start innocent, quiet and happy, that turn deeper, wetter, messier as Ten starts to move his hips. Jongin curses against his lips, gasps into his mouth, whispers praises and pleas and thank yous.

Ten feels Taemin’s hands gripping his hips tighter, fingers digging into his flesh, the tip of Taemin’s cock teasing his rim. He shivers all over, nearly loses all bearings, tries to anchor himself in the kisses he trades with Jongin.

Then Taemin pushes into him, and hot, golden pleasure fills everything he is. There is no room for thoughts or doubts or worries, no room for tense anxiousness, just the molten heat in his body.

Reality fractures. There are hands on Ten’s face, steadying him, kisses on his neck, teeth grazing the skin of his shoulders, his back, hands gripping his hips tight.

Somewhere, far away, Ten can hear himself moan, his voice all broken. He is not sure if he has ever felt this much at once.

Jongin sits up, the muscles in his stomach pulling tight, and wraps his arms around Ten, buries his face in the crook of Ten’s neck and whispers Ten’s name and “so good, so good” and “more, Ten, please”. Taemin kisses Ten’s shoulder, sinks his teeth into the skin there, just hard enough to sting a little, swears under his breath, gasps encouragement and praise. Ten thinks he may be pleading, though he doesn’t know what he is pleading for. He is so afraid he’ll fall apart any second, float out of his body. He feels very vulnerable, so raw and soft and strange. He buries his face in Jongin’s hair, whimpers softly into the sweaty, silky mess of it. Taemin’s body is solid and strong behind him, his arms holding him up, his hands helping Ten’s stuttering hips keep the rhythm. Ten fucks into Jongin with each thrust of Taemin’s hips. Jongin tightens his grip on Ten’s shoulders, is strong and gentle and holds him up and together and safe. Safe. He is safe. He is good. He is enough. He is loved. He is a person with a heart and a soul that matter.

Ten breaks apart into a million shards of light, the all-encompassing molten heat in him a heady rush. He cries out from the force of it, tries to hold on to Jongin with shaking hands, feels his body convulse. He is so far gone he feels almost as if he were floating out of his body, as he hears Taemin and Jongin come apart around him. Then the world turns black.

Ten comes to wrapped in warmth and love and safe acceptance, surrounded by warm skin and gentle words, still all overwhelmed but held safe. Jongin presses a kiss to his lips, smiles, when Ten blinks his eyes open lazily.

“Hi,” Jongin whispers against his lips, rubbing the tips of their noses together. Tiny shivers still run all over Ten’s skin as if an electrical current were still alive in his bloodstream.

Ten can’t do much but watch with lazy eyes and lose limbs as Jongin cleans up the mess they have made. Taemin curls up beside him, buries into him like a happy cat, humming softly, holding Ten’s hand.

Jongin carries Ten to the bathroom, Taemin trailing behind them, all lose limbs and dorky smile. Ten has to drop his head onto Taemin’s shoulder, lets himself be held up because his legs won’t work. Tiny ripples spread over his skin everywhere he is touched, aftershocks that keep making him feel as if he’s been dipped in fire and pleasure and happiness. The warm water of the shower feels like heaven. Ten closes his eyes on a groan, lets his muscles relax impossibly further, trusts Taemin and Jongin to hold him up and hold him safe for tonight. Jongin cleans Ten up with gentle hands and tiny kisses hidden in unexpected places. Taemin shampoos his hair, his fingers drawing a quiet moan from Ten’s chest. When he is all clean, Jongin carries him back to the bed, tucks him in, slides beneath the covers with him to cuddle him to his chest. Ten thinks he may start to purr any second, because he feels so fucking good. Taemin makes Ten drink some of cool water he gets from the kitchen and feeds him some chewy snacks from the fridge. Jongin pouts until Taemin gets him some food, too, complaining quite unconvincingly about Jongin always making him do all the work. The smile in Taemin’s eyes when he looks at Jongin radiates so much love and happiness that it makes something in Ten’s chest pull tight.

It's only when Jongin looks at him with worry written all over his face that Ten realizes he is crying.

Taemin sits on the sheets and touches Ten’s temple with careful fingers. Ten tries to look at him through the stupid tears in his eyes. He blinks, but that only makes the tears come faster. He tastes salt on his lips.

Taemin brushes away the tears, kisses his forehead. Ten sobs quietly. “What if I never find anyone?”, he asks. Anyone like this, he means, someone who will look at him the way Taemin looks at Jongin, the way Jongin smiles at Taemin, someone who is his before anything else.

Taemin shakes his head and slides under the covers, drapes his arms over Ten, so Ten is surrounded by warm skin and warm smiles.

“Hey,” Jongin says, his voice deep and quiet, “of course you will. You’re smart and funny and beautiful and talented and hard-working and amazing and kind.” Ten blushes and tries to hide his face in the covers, but Jongin doesn’t let him. He kisses Tens salty lips, holds him closer still.

“They’re being stupid with the rules, sometimes, you know how it is,” Taemin huffs. “Especially for us. But they won’t stand in your way if you find the person you want to be with. I promise. I won’t let them.” There is something so sure and honest in the way Taemin is looking at him in the dim light, it is easy to believe him, easy to trust him. The tension is starting to bleed out of Ten again. He exhales deeply, cuddles closer into Taemin’s arms, lets himself be held.

“We’ll help you get out to date if you want to, promise,” Jongin says, “it’s difficult, but it’s possible. We’ll help if you want us to.” The tiny fairy lights from the balcony glitter in the depth of Jongin’s eyes. “You deserve all the happiness in the world. And I am sure it will find you sooner than you think.” It is probably the bliss still coursing through his veins, but Ten believes him, finds hope, bright and happy and light, filling his chest.

“And in the meantime, we’ll help you get out to party if you want,” Taemin promises, “and you can always come play with us.” He smiles and buries his face in Ten’s damp hair.

Ten closes his eyes, lets himself be kissed and cuddled. He falls asleep to whispered words that make him feel wanted and appreciated and happy and important and beautiful. His limbs are all heavy, it is easy to breathe. Ten’s heart beats slowly, steadily, his mind deliciously blank, his chest full of hope and happiness and tiny fireworks.


End file.
